New Beginnings
by Maricole
Summary: A short story about what I think might happen


28

New Beginnings

Christian could not stop the single tear that leaked out of the corner of his eye, and ran slowly down his cheek. He was unable to move, even blink, the feeling of total helplessness was horrendous, and he was flung straight back to that terrifying time in his childhood, when he had first been overpowered and held down by a man.

To be wrenched from sleep, and immediately paralyzed by the shocking stab of the needle to his neck set off a chain of horrific memories, that threatened to break him, even without the nightmare of what he was facing in the present. The fear inside him was alive, tearing, clawing at his lungs, causing his heart to triple beat, threatening to explode in his chest, but he couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't swallow. All he could do was focus on the shining blade held in the hand of the man looming over his bed, and feel the panic and terror as it came slashing down.

Inside his mind, he was screaming – this could not be happening to him, not to his face, which had been his fortune for a long time, the only thing he had that was really him, and not some false front, but he could make no sound at all.

In the milliseconds it took for the blade to come slashing down, Christian stared at death.

With an abrupt suddenness the blade stopped, centimeters from his cheek. The Carver leant down, close to Christian, and grabbed his face with a gloved hand, turning it this way and that, examining it intently. He reached up and turned on the voice-distorting unit at the bottom of his mask.

"Beauty is a curse on the world," the Carver said, in his enhanced voice. "I warned Dr McNamara about spoiling my work, but he couldn't help himself."

Christian still couldn't move, couldn't speak, he stared up into the expressionless mask, each of his hammering heartbeats marking time.

"I thought about his pretty wife – but decided it would be more of a statement, to come to visit you, instead. He's not expecting that at all, is he?"

The horrible face came closer, the eyes glittering through the mask; the gloved hand stoking his cheek in a horrible parody of a lover's caress.

"Besides," the repellent voice hissed, and the mask came closer still, the eyes suddenly hungry. "Beauty on the outside hides the ugliness inside. You are the most beautiful – and I will carve my masterpiece into your face, your body, and he will not destroy it this time. But first, other things..."

The Carver drew back a little, and threw the bedclothes onto the floor. Christian's heart began banging harder, almost shaking his whole body, and the fear threatened to overwhelm him, he still couldn't move he could only lie there and allow this to happen.

He couldn't even remember why he had put on pajamas when he went to bed, he usually slept naked, and in some ways now he wished he hadn't, because to lie there, while the Carver undid each button, slowly, and then examined every bit of flesh that was revealed each time, was another torture, and was stoking and accelerating his fear and his total humiliation, if that was possible.

The Carver finished the buttons on his top, and pulled it open, exposing Christian's chest, and ran his blade down from Christian's throat to his navel, and back up again, shaving some of the hairs on the way. He ran the sharp blade over one nipple, cutting into it as he went, and dragging a smear of blood on the blade of the knife, across Christian's chest.

"Blood will cleanse," he hissed, dragging the blade, letting the point dig into Christian's flesh again. "And you will bleed."

The Carver slid his knife under the waistband of Christian's pajama pants, and sliced through, and then he slid them down Christian's legs, and threw them on the floor as well.

He then stood back, and examined the naked man on the bed. The mask remained expressionless, but the Carver ran a gloved hand over Christian's body, and Christian could do nothing but mentally cringe away from the crawling fingers.

"Yes, beautiful," said The Carver, staring down, visibly exited, "And your beauty shall be your doom!"

With a vicious suddenness, he grabbed one of Christian's shoulders, and rolled his body over, so that Christian lay face down, struggling for breath, and began to run the blade up and down across Christian's back, and digging the tip of it into the smooth skin occasionally, so more blood blossomed and trickled across his skin, and Christian could feel it slithering, warm and sticky, across his body, and down onto the sheets. He lay there almost fatalistically, waiting now for the rape he knew was to follow, trying to hold onto his sanity and consciousness, and as he felt the Carver's movements become more frenzied, he gulped for air, and prayed for the strength to endure.

Suddenly the phone next to the bed began to ring, and for a moment the Carver paused, and laughed, deep and menacing, as the answering machine with Christian's voice, informed the caller that Christian was not at home, and to leave a message.

"Christian, where are you?" came Kimber's voice, pleadingly. "I want to come over, I want to see you. I need to see you again. If you're home, please pick up, please."

After a moment's hesitation, her voice quivering with emotion trailed off, and she cut the connection.

And now it seemed worse, if possible, for Christian, as he heard the sounds of a zip being undone, and he shut his eyes in anguish and terror, trying to control his breathing.

As the Carver climbed onto the bed behind him, Christian stared for a moment uncomprehendingly at his right hand as it clenched into a fist, and suddenly the fear was swallowed up in a huge surge of anger, his adrenalin levels were screaming, and he realized his body was fighting off the effects of the drug a lot quicker than the Carver expected.

He waited till he felt those repulsive hands touch his body again, and threw himself backwards, rearing up savagely and displacing the man poised above him. The Carver slipped sideways off the bed, and in a flash Christian was on top of him, not concerned about the knife any longer, but only with revenge. Suddenly the Carver was fighting for his life, the man whom he thought was drugged into submission was now in control, and much stronger than the Carver himself.

Christian hit the Carver in the face with a savageness that smashed the hard ceramic mask, and drove shards of it into the face of the man underneath. The Carver screamed and twisted away from Christian's grip, and lashed out with the knife, but Christian didn't even feel the pain, as the knife slashed across his body, but kept on pounding at the man who was twisting beneath him screaming and gurgling, and enjoying the feeling, letting the anger wash over him, and hitting with all his strength again and again and again, till he ran out of breath, and the man beneath him was no longer making any noise at all.

Then realization hit him, and he stepped back, and stared down at the unconscious man on the floor, struggling to drag oxygen into his own lungs, and wondering why all of a sudden everything was becoming blurry.

Only then did he became aware of pain in his body, and looked down, to see the knife's savage path across his body, and watched with fascination as the blood flowed out and down from the knife wounds, then finally, as if released from a spell, reached across and grabbed the phone, punching in numbers without thinking, and holding onto his consciousness as he listened to it ring.

"Hello?" the voice he most wanted to hear finally answered, and he found that for a moment he couldn't answer, and felt another tear roll down his face.

"Hello? Who the hell is this?" came the voice again, and Christian finally managed to answer.

"Sean?" he said, in a voice that wavered. "I need your help."

Sean McNamara had lain in his bed, staring into the darkness, clutching the gun to his chest for the last several hours. The phone ringing next to his bed made him jump and he snatched it up and allowed irritation to show in his voice.

"What the hell have you done now?" he demanded, as he recognized his partner's voice.

"Not more self surgery! Shit, we've got that face lift in," and he glanced at the bedside clock, "less than six hours. I hope you haven't been fucking around again!"

He waited for a moment, but all he could hear was his partner's irregular and uneven breathing.

"Christian?" he said again, "What's wrong?"

"Sean...Sean," was all Christian could say, before the phone slipped out of his hand, and Sean felt the irritation slip away from him to be replaced by a sudden fear. He yelled his partner's name into the phone, but there was no reply.

It took him less than 5 minutes to throw on some clothes, and grab his cell phone and car keys. Driving towards the up market apartment block where Christian lived, he vacillated between anger, irritation, and fear, but it was gut wrenching fear that accompanied him into Christian's apartment. He hesitated when he found the door slightly ajar, and peering in could see no lights on.

"Christian?" he called out, reaching into the gloom and switching on the light, before stepping into the apartment. He strode across the large lounge room, and into Christian's bedroom, flicking on that light as well.

The first thing he saw was his partner, sitting cross-legged on the bed, naked and covered in blood, rocking back and forth and staring fixedly at something on the floor.

"Christian, - Christian – what the hell is going on?" he demanded, cautiously advancing into the room. There was no response from the bloodied figure on the bed; Christian continued to stare at the floor. It was then Sean saw the other figure lying there, gurgling and moaning, and he grabbed his phone, dialing the emergency number straight away, calling for both police and ambulance, before edging around to sit on the bed next to Christian.

"Christian," he said again, still getting no response and becoming more than a little scared– "Chris –don't look there, look at me, listen to me," and he reached out to touch his partner on the shoulder. Christian flinched away from him, and moaned, and then Sean became aware of the knife wounds on Christian's body. He took Christian's hand, and noticed the bruising and cut knuckles, and automatically felt for his pulse, while continuing to talk in a calm voice, trying to break through to Christian.

"It's all right now. I'm here," he said, over and over, running his eyes over Christian's body, taking in all the cuts that had been made by the knife, and noting that while most of them were nasty, deep and bleeding, none looked to be life threatening.

. "Christian - I'm here, I'll look after you now," he repeated, and finally Christian looked up at him, and Sean could finally see, for the first time, the terrified and abused child that lurked in those crystal blue depths.

"Sean?" he queried with such childlike emotion, and Sean felt his own eyes fill with tears. He could hear the wail of sirens in the distance, and eased off the bed, going to a drawer and pulling out a pair of tracksuit pants.

"Here, can you stand up? Put these on, the police will be here any minute."

Christian managed to stand, weaving a little on his feet, still looking down at the man on the floor, and obediently as a child, began dressing himself, leaning on Sean as he did so. Sean then eased him back on the bed where he lay staring at the ceiling, and murmuring Sean's name over and over again like a mantra against the horrors he had experienced.

When the police finally burst into the apartment, Sean had control of himself again, and was sitting on the bed holding a clean towel over the knife wounds on Christian's chest. He looked up thankfully as help arrived.

He was worried about the wounds but he was more worried about Christian's mental state. He could not remember seeing him like this ever before, almost catatonic, even when he had broken down in the church and confessed to Sean of the childhood abuse he had suffered, he had not retreated inside himself like this.

The Police detective whistled when he saw the Carver on the floor, twisting amongst the ruins of his own mask.

"What the hell happened here?" was his first query, and Sean shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know, but I imagine that the Carver attacked my partner, and somehow Christian overcame the drugs, and punched him out." And he indicated Christian's right hand, the knuckles of which were turning purple and swelling before their eyes, then pointed towards the empty syringe lying on the floor. "And if you analyze what's left in that syringe there, I'm sure you'll find its got traces of a drug called mevacuronium, which is what the Carver uses to paralyze his male victims".

"Well at least he didn't cut his face," said the detective, "Do you know if he raped him?"

Sean shook his head. "I don't know – look I need to get him to the clinic pretty quickly, he will be o.k. to answer your questions tomorrow maybe, but right now he needs stitching up and possibly some blood or plasma."

The detective had bent down, and was removing the remains of the Carver's mask, and tried to hide his expression when he saw the man's face, which ironically was cut on each cheek, almost in a parody of the damaged he himself inflicted on others, and still had pieces of ceramic mask embedded into the wounds.

"Jeez your partner really hit him hard," he said to Sean. "Don't suppose you'll be repairing his face pro-bono."

"Just kidding," he added when he looked up and saw Sean's expression. He indicated to the other policeman to let the ambulance officers into the room.

"We will take him to hospital, then when he's properly awake, we can have a very interesting chat with him," he said. "Perhaps we'd better get another ambulance, I'm sure your partner won't feel like traveling with this guy in the same vehicle."

Sean shook his head. "I'm taking Christian to our clinic," he said. "I'll just get one of the ambulance men to help me get him to my car."

"I'd prefer he to go to the hospital and get checked out by a real doctor," said the detective, without thinking, and Sean's blue eyes blazed.

"I am a doctor, a real doctor," he snapped, "And he's coming with me."

He pulled his cell phone out of his top pocket, and dialed the clinic, trying to remember which nurse was on duty tonight, and was pleased when Linda answered.

"Linda, I need you to contact Liz for me, and get her to come in immediately. I want the operating room set up, for knife wound repairs, and I'll be there in about 20 minutes. Oh, and can you contact Julia for me, and ask her if she will come down to the clinic as soon as possible? Thanks."

He was placing towels over the wounds on Christian's chest as he was talking, and with the help of the ambulance office, managed to secure them with a couple of rolls of bandage. Christian sat up when asked to, and allowed Sean to put a jacket on him, although they were unable to fasten it, due to the bulk underneath. He stood when asked and though he was weak on his feet, supported by Sean and one of the ambulance officers, he managed to stagger out to Sean's car, still saying nothing, and still with the same blank look on his face.

By the time Sean got to the clinic, there was no color left in Christian's face at all. He had spent the whole time in the car talking to Christian, constantly reassuring him that he would not be hurt again, but there had been no change at all in Christian's expression. He pulled up at the main doors of the clinic, and rushed around to ring the bell, yelling for Linda to bring a wheelchair.

Linda's shock, when she saw Christian, was immense.

"Oh what happened?" she asked Sean, visibly shaken by Christian's demeanor, and listened in horror as Sean told her the outline of the story.

"Liz is getting the operating room ready – and Julia is on her way here," she said, as she and Sean managed to manhandle Christian into the wheelchair. "I'll help you get Christian prepared."

In no time at all, they had Christian on the operating table. Liz worked in her calm manner, not showing how upset she was, to see the man she loved to hate, so hurt, both physically and mentally.

Sean had decided against giving him a full anesthetic, worried about a conflict with the drugs already in his system, so had decided to go with a local and a slight sedative, hoping to relax Christian enough so he would sleep through the stitching, without fully rendering him unconscious. Liz had already hooked up the heart machine, and it was a relief to see and hear the steady rhythm of his heart.

Sean looked down at Christian, and explained what he was about to do, and told him to go to sleep, and was pleased but also concerned, to see Christian obediently close his eyes.

An hour later he sat in the staff room, staring down into his coffee, trying to sort out the emotions in his head, and trying to stop shaking. He had had a week of horror himself, with little or no sleep, and his emotions were still ragged over his own clash with the Carver. He had taunted the serial rapist by repairing the faces of the people he damaged, but had not obviously been thorough enough in his preparations for a trap. He should have realized that Christian was as much at risk as he was.

"Trying to find a way to make this all your fault?" asked Liz as she entered the room, and sat down wearily.

Sean smiled wryly. "Isn't it?" he said. "I should have...."

"What?" demanded Liz. "You should have done what? You didn't know he would go after Christian. And you are not responsible because he did Sean."

"Aren't I? I went ahead and did that last repair, after the Carver specifically warned me not to. – I just didn't think he would hurt Christian. I was waiting for him to come back and attack me again. But I should have known – I should have anticipated...."

"Sean, because the Carver went after Christian, he is now in custody. That's a good thing. I am sorry that Christian was hurt, but he'll be fine. He'll be back to his obnoxious best, too soon for me. And he'll be a hero, won't he just love that."

Sean sighed and shook his head. "God, I hope so Liz, but there are other things going on here – you saw him – he's traumatized –"

"Yes," said Liz, "He's in shock. – We are monitoring him carefully, and he'll come out of it. You can't blame yourself. We have a couple of big operations tomorrow – or should I say today now, and you need to be calm and in control, because you'll be doing them by yourself now."

She stood up, and put her hand briefly on his shoulder, and left the room, heading back to check on Christian.

At her calm words, Sean felt some of the tension leave him. He sighed again, and then tried to pick up his cup again, without shaking hard enough to spill the contents.

He nearly dropped his cup however, when Julia appeared in the doorway.

"Sean?" she said, "What ever is wrong? Are you all right?" and she sat down next to him, her lovely face full of concern.

"The Carver struck again," he said, and she put her arms around him.

"Oh no, did he hurt you? Are you alright?" she asked urgently, "Are you alright?"

"He didn't attack me," replied Sean slowly, dismayed to find his hand starting to shake again, and his eyes starting to sting. "He attacked Christian."

"Oh God no," said Julia, horrified. "Not Christian as well, ...not his face..." she looked at Sean, her eyes wide. "I mean ... is he badly hurt? How badly marked is he? Can you fix it?"

"He didn't mark Christian's face. I guess you and half the population of the country can relax on that count," he looked down at the cup in his hands, and quickly put it down, as the shaking became worse. He felt a tear run down his cheek.

"I should have known to protect him," he said, almost to himself. "I should have realized he would go after Christian."

Julia put her arms around Sean, and pulled him tightly against her.

"But you said he didn't cut Christian's face – he didn't ...Oh Sean he didn't rape him, did he?"

"No – Christian managed to knock him out. The Carver is in custody now – "

"That's good, right?" said Julia, watching her husband's face, as he tried to stamp down on his emotions. "How badly hurt is Christian then?"

"He's not that badly hurt, physically I mean. I don't know what sort of emotional or mental damage has been done. I won't know till I can talk to Christian properly, but Julia, he was pretty traumatized by it all. I have never seen him so ... so – I mean I should have realized that something like this would bring it all back for him, but I just didn't think... I never think properly when it comes to Christian."

"What, Sean? What are you talking about?"

"I found out last year, and I swear I didn't know before then, that Christian was abused by his foster father, for years."

Julia stared at him, uncomprehendingly.

"Sean, that's unbelievable. Christian is the most confident person I know," she said slowly.

Sean nodded. "It's all a pretence with him," he said. "His bravado, his confidence. And I've always known, in the back of my mind, that he needs me, he needs to love someone unconditionally, and he loves me that way. As someone who accepts him as he is, who sees past a handsome face and a charming manner, and sees the real him. – Only it's all a lie, Julia, because I didn't see the real him, not till tonight, not till he turned to me as a child, not a man, and then I saw the real Christian Troy. The abused and frightened child, needing someone to hang on to."

And Sean was crying now, weeping silently gripping her hand tightly. "I failed him, Julia, I set him up as a sacrificial lamb for the Carver albeit unknowingly, and I didn't protect him. I have known for years that all he really wants is acceptance, to be part of a family. Its something I've always taken for granted, and something I've always had, that Christian didn't have. And in some twisted way, I knew it and felt superior because of it - I knew that women always favored Christian, and that for all that, he was still envious of what I had. My family, you – things he couldn't have. That's why, when I found out about Matt, I went crazy. Because I was worried that maybe you would love him more than you loved me, that Matt would love him more."

"Oh Sean," was all Julia could say, her own eyes filling with tears. "What a mess we have made of things, you, me and Christian. I want to see him, is that possible? I want to see him, but I want you to be there too."

Sean wiped his eyes, and stood up, taking Julia into his arms, and burying his face into her neck for a moment, breathing in her scent. Then he led the way down the corridor, and into the recovery room.

Christian was lying very still, on his back on the bed, a drip attached to one arm, heart monitor beeping steadily. Liz was writing down something on a chart, she looked up and smiled at Julia.

"He's coming around, everything is looking good Sean."

Sean nodded and took the chart, while Julia went and stood at the bedside, looking down at Christian's pale face.

"We all had such promise," she said, staring down. "You and Christian both, with your brains and your beauty, and me with my appetite for laughter and fun, and look how we ended up. I forgot how to laugh a long time ago, I made you unhappy, I made Christian unhappy, I even made my own son unhappy. I have screwed everything up."

And her eyes filled with tears. Sean put his arm around her hugging her close.

"I should have told you when I first got pregnant, that it could have been Christian's baby. But when you asked me to marry you, Sean I was so happy, I didn't give it a thought. I hid it away from myself for so long, that in the end it was easy not to think about it. I never cheated on you, after our marriage, and it was only the one time before."

Sean put both his hands over his face, and rubbed his eyes. "Did you love him? Would you have married him, had he asked?"

Julia looked back down at the sleeping man. "Yes," she said slowly, "But that doesn't mean I didn't love you. I don't care what people say, it is possible to love two people at the same time. I loved you both, and I could only have one of you."

"And I was the safest bet, I suppose," said Sean, trying hard to find some bitterness, but feeling only empty.

"Yes, you were," said Julia truthfully. "I never thought that Christian would be able to settle down. And I grew to love you more. My bitterness and unhappiness were rooted in my dissatisfaction with my mother; it was never you, although I blamed you for it. But part of me will always love Christian too, and I have to accept that, and stop punishing him and pushing him away, because of it."

Christian opened his eyes, and looked up at Julia. He stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment, and closed his eyes again, but minutes later opened them to blink a little at the light, before turning his head on the pillow, to look anxiously for Sean.

Just for that moment, Julia too, caught a glimpse of the frightened boy that lurked behind Christian's veneer, and then it was if shutters came down, and the man took over again.

"Julia?" he murmured softly, "Sean?" He struggled a little, and tried to lift his head from the pillow, but Sean was by his side in an instant, pushing him back down.

"Don't try to move, not for a while anyway. I can't believe you did it, you got the Carver – the police will want to talk with you shortly, but for now you just rest."

He left his hand on Christian's shoulder, and Julia, on the other side of the bed, took Christian's other hand in hers.

Christian screwed up his face, as memories came flooding back.

"Sean," he said again, in a breathless whisper. "It was horrible. I felt so helpless."

"I know," came the reply. "I felt it too. I know. But," and Sean tightened his grasp on his friend's shoulder. "But you fought it off, you overcame the drug in your system, and you overpowered the Carver. So you saved the next victim, and the next. You did a great thing."

Christian smiled slightly, still woozy from the effects of the sedative.

"I was so very scared," he said, "and so very helpless. But the guy was so busy gloating over me, that he didn't realize how much time had passed. He was telling me how this would break you, and that he was going to destroy my face, so that you wouldn't be able to repair it... and do other things..." Christian's voice tailed away, and he closed his eyes at the memory, but then opened them again, looking up at Sean.

"I looked across and realized that I had clenched my fist, then I knew the drug was losing its effect on me. I just pushed him off me, and hit him, again and again. Did I kill him, I can't remember."

"No, but you did a pretty good job of messing up his face," replied Sean, smiling. "Now rest for a while, Julia is going to sit here next to you, and hold your hand while you sleep. I've got a couple of operations to get through this morning, so when I've finished I'll come back, and we will talk properly."

Christian closed his eyes, and allowed himself drift for a moment, and then became conscious of the pressure of Julia's hand on his. He opened his eyes again, and looked at her for a moment, she smiled at him, and squeezed his hand a little, and he smiled back, and closed his eyes.

"Go to sleep Christian," she said to him. "I'm just going to sit here for a while."

For a long time, he had loved Julia, but she had always been just out of his reach, his shining star, a good friend, married to his best friend, and he guiltily and secretly lusted after her. They had shared a mad night of passion, and created a bond between them that time and Sean could not erase, but the events of the last few months, the fact that Matt was his biological son, coupled with Julia and Sean's anguished break up, had changed something in him, in both of them. He wondered, as he drifted off to sleep, why the touch of her hand on his no longer aroused longing in him, but was warm and comforting and almost maternal.

When Sean came back to the room hours and hours later, Christian was sitting propped up, scowling at Liz who was writing in his chart.

"I told you he was on his way," she said to Christian. "Now you can harass him about getting up." She handed the file to Sean, and walked out of the room, stopping in the doorway to smile wryly. "I told you he would be back to his annoying self very quickly," she said to Sean, and walked off before Christian could retort.

"Giving Liz a hard time?" asked Sean, without thinking, and Christian smiled properly for the first time.

"Oh I would be much to scared to do anything like that," he replied. "But seriously Sean, I need to walk around a bit. And go to the bathroom – by myself."

"Everything seems o.k.," said Sean. "Just take it easy, remember you lost a bit of blood, so you'll feel pretty weak for a while. How does the wound feel?"

"Numb," replied Christian, sliding gingerly out of the bed, and edging his way to the bathroom. "How deep was it?"

"Not too bad," replied Sean. "Have the police been to see you?"

"Yes," replied Christian. "They came about lunch time. Julia must have stayed, because she was still here, when I woke up. Then the police came and took a statement, and after that, she went home, she said Matt was still looking after Annie."

Sean sat on the bed, looking down at his notes, trying to find the right words to say.

"Yes, she stayed till she knew you were better. You matter a lot to both of us. I should have realized that you were in danger too, and I'm sorry he came after you."

Christian opened the bathroom door, and stared across at Sean, sitting on the bed. He smiled a little, and edged his way back, to sit on the other side of the bed.

"Are you blaming yourself for what happened?" he asked incredulously. "It wasn't your fault, Sean, the guy is an absolute nutcase."

"You don't blame me?" asked Sean, "Not even a little bit?"

"Why would I blame you?" asked Christian. "You're my friend."

Sean nodded, and blinked hard a few times.

"Well, you're in not too bad a condition," he said in a professional manner, "but I don't think you should go back to the apartment by yourself for a while. Do you want to stay here again tonight, or come back to my house, and stay with me for a few days, till you can move a little easier. I can't cook worth a damn, but we can order take out."

Christian grinned at him. "Do you have to ask - Did you bring me any clothes?"

"Julia did," said Sean. "She went back to your apartment when she left here, and dropped some stuff off for you. She and the kids are moving back home as well. We are going to try again, I thought you should be the first to know."

"I am truly pleased for you Sean," said Christian, dragging out a pair of tracksuit pants from the carrier bag. "I really am. But I can go home," he went on to say. "You won't want me there to spoil your first night back together."

"Yes, we do," replied Sean. "And Matt does, and Annie. We may not be the most well adjusted family unit, but whatever we are, you are part of it, and it can't be ignored or refuted any longer. There are no more secrets, and Julia and I want you to come and stay, till you are better."

It was much later that night, that Christian sat on the bed, in the McNamara's spare room, looking around at the patterned wallpaper, and the knick knacks on the dressing table, and feeling safe and happy, something he had not felt for a long time. He heard the soft knock at the door, and Sean came in, looking a little guilty, followed by Julia.

"The kids are asleep at last," said Julia, producing a bottle of wine and some cups. "And we are going to have a party, just like we used to in the dorms, all those years ago."

Christian laughed at her; he hadn't seen her like this for many years. She climbed up on the bed next to him, and gave him a glass. Sean sat behind her, and she leaned back on him. He winked at Christian over the top of her head, and held out a joint.

"I have been saving this for a long time," he said. "Lets have one last drink and smoke, and then put all this shit behind us!"

"Sean!" said Julia in horror, but Christian laughed even harder.

"Just like old times," he said. "To good friends." And he held out his glass.

Sean took a drag on the joint, and began coughing helplessly, the tears streaming down his face.

"Shit," he said, when he could breath. "That's really strong stuff!" He offered it to Christian, who took a drag, and coughed himself.

Julia snatched it away, in disgust, and butted it in a ceramic pot. She clinked her glass with Christian's then with Sean's. "Old times, good friends," she said softly. "And new beginnings."

"New beginnings," echoed Sean and Christian together, clinking their glasses, and grinning.

The end.


End file.
